


They Don't Tell Us Anything

by lettered



Series: Supernatural Writers' Room [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettered/pseuds/lettered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how they wrote episode 7.07, "The Mentalists", and what the actors thought when they saw the script. Can be read as sequel to Same As The Old Boss, but can be read independently as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They Don't Tell Us Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my_daroga who deserves credit for the Impala and Sam's hair.
> 
> Not only is it not real, it’s not researched at all. 
> 
> Contains spoilers for 7.07.

“We need a plot,” said Ben.

“Not again,” said Ben.

“We need one every episode,” said Ben. “Almost every episode.”

Ben sighed, thinking about plot. “So. People are dying.”

“That’s a good plot,” said Ben. “Who’s killing them?”

“A demon?”

Ben also thought about plot. “Kind of hard to work in. There was Sam, there was a girl, it ended badly. Better stay away from it.”

Ben thought about plot some more. “Werewolf?”

“Ben said there are associations,” Ben said.

“I didn’t—oh, you mean Kenobi,” said Ben. “What associations?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. There was Sam, there was a girl, it ended—well, you know.”

Ben thought about more plot. “I know! Psychics.”

“Well,” said Ben.

“Don’t say Sam and a girl.”

“Not exactly,” said Ben. “She had a thing for Sam, though.”

Ben sighed. “So. We’re back to ghosts.”

“Yes. Ghosts.”

“It’s always ghosts on this show,” said Ben.

“Okay. So there’s a ghost.”

“In a town?”

“It’s always towns on this show,” said Ben. “They find the bones, salt and burn them, and save the town.”

“That’s a pretty good plot,” said Ben.

“Seems a little thin,” said Ben.

“There could be a twist,” said Ben.

“There’s a twist every episode,” said Ben. He thought about twists. “Twists are hard.”

Ben also thought about twists. “I’ve got it. They find the bones, salt and burn them, but they’re not the right bones.”

“Oh,” said Ben. “That’s good. That’s really good! The first ghost was just warning them about the second ghost. But then what happens?”

“They find the other bones! And they salt and burn them.”

“And save the town,” said Ben.

“I think we have a plot,” said Ben.

*

Sera read the story outline, nodding. “People are dying in town, Sam and Dean find the ghost’s bones, salt and burn, more people die, turns out it was the wrong bones, Sam and Dean find the right bones, salt and burn, save the town. This is a good plot.”

Ben and Ben smiled.

Sera looked up from the story outline. “Seven, right?”

“Er,” said Ben.

“What?” said Ben.

“Plot Number Seven,” said Ben.

Ben looked at Ben. 

Sera frowned. “I could swear it was Seven. You mean this is Eight?” She looked down at the outline again.

“Er.” Ben shuffled his feet.

“We don’t know what you mean,” said Ben.

“We’re new,” said Ben.

“Oh! Yes, sorry, I forgot.” Sera looked from one Ben to the other. “So you didn’t get this from the files?”

“Er,” said Ben.

“What files?” said Ben.

“Right, sorry.” Sera gave them back their outline. “There are files.” When the Bens still didn’t seem to get it, she went on, “There are files full of plots. This is plot Number Seven. We only have so many,” she explained.

“So we don’t actually need plots,” Ben said.

“Or twists,” Ben said.

Sera just smiled. “Well, sometimes we make new ones. But boy howdy, you should know: if you’re ever stuck for a plot, just hit the files. We only have fourteen or so, but really that’s all you need.”

“Oh,” said Ben.

“Thanks,” said Ben.

Sera stopped leaning back in her chair, sitting up straight. “Of course,” she said, and she wasn’t smiling any more. “The episodes aren’t about plot.”

“Oh,” said Ben.

“They’re not?” said Ben.

Sera shook her head. “They’re about Sam and Dean.”

“Well,” said Ben.

“Yes,” said Ben.

Sera nodded. “The focus of an episode isn’t the plot. It’s about Sam and Dean. So you’ve got to figure out how to make the plot about Sam and Dean.”

“Oh,” said Ben.

“Our plot isn’t about Sam and Dean,” said Ben.

“We’re new,” said Ben.

Sera just waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. The plot can really be any old thing. When you think about it, you can make anything about Sam and Dean. Take pie. Take cars. Take brothers! These two ghosts. Make them brothers. Or sisters. In fact, it’s better if they’re sisters. Less direct that way.”

“It’s pretty direct,” said Ben.

“He’s new,” said Ben.

Sera didn’t look upset. “You remember storyboarding, right?”

Ben looked at Ben. They remembered storyboarding. Mostly they remembered Eric Kripke, waving his arms and telling anyone who would listen that Misha Collins was crazy. They also remembered Helpful Ben—that was the Old Ben, who’d they’d taken to calling Kenobi—teaching them about real person fanfic. And Sera had taught them about fan service. And then Becky had taught them about incest. 

“Oh,” said Ben. “You mean about how if you can’t be subtle, you have to beat things over the head.”

“Until it bleeds,” said Ben. “And then people think it’s funny.”

“Now you’re getting it,” said Sera. “ _Supernatural_ isn’t subtle. Sibling ghosts.”

“Good idea,” said Ben.

“It’s funny,” said Ben.

“Sure, it’s funny. It’s funny until it’s fucking depressing. Which is what’s going to happen when you relate whatever’s happening with the sibling ghosts to what’s happening with Sam and Dean. If you’ll remember the arc from storyboarding—you remember the arc, don’t you?”

Ben looked at Ben again. They remembered storyboarding. There was just so much to remember, really, that they had sort of forgotten about arcs.

“Er,” said Ben.

“We kind of lost track,” said Ben. “There was a lot to take in.”

“Great, that’s just great.” Sera pulled out her desk drawer and rummaged inside. Her hand emerged brandishing a legal pad. “You’re lucky I actually made notes.” She read the notes over, flipping through pages. “Okay, so we have to find out where in their arcs Sam and Dean are. We’re thinking about using this episode somewhere after five, somewhere before eight. Oh, here we go. Season Seven, Sam and Dean arcs. Looks like this.”

She pushed the pad over to the Bens. This was what it looked like:

**Sam | Dean (apart) -- > Dean gets Sam --> Sam+Dean --> Sam leaves (Meg) --> Sam and Dean back together --> Sam + Dean (sort of, Daddy angst) --> Sam+Dean (over it) --> Sam leaves (pie) --> Sam | Dean (apart) --> Dean gets Sam --> Sam and Dean back together --> Sam and Dean (sort of, Dean’s bargain) --> Dean leaves (Hell) --> Sam alone --> Dean comes back --> Sam and Dean back together --> Sam+Dean(+Castiel) --> Sam and Dean (sort of, Ruby) --> Sam leaves (Lilith) --> Sam and Dean back together --> Dean leaves (Michael) --> Sam alone --> Sam gets Dean --> Dean and Sam back together (Bobby, Castiel) --> Dean/Sam --> Dean+Lucifer!Sam --> Dean gets Sam --> Sam leaves (Hell) --> Castiel leaves (Heaven) --> Dean alone --> Sam comes back --> Dean and Sam (sort of, but not really) --> Sam and Dean+Castiel --> Dean+Sam(+soul) --> Castiel alone --> Sam and Dean (no Castiel) + Bobby**

“Oh,” said Ben.

“We’re _really_ new,” said Ben.

Ben leaned closer. “Does it mean something different if there’s a plus or slash?”

Ben also leaned closer. “And does it matter which name comes first?”

Sera frowned, looking down at her notes. “Oh!” she said. “Sorry! These are the series notes. We need the season notes. Here! These are the notes for season seven.” She flipped a page and showed them the new diagram.

It looked like this:

**Sam and Dean + Bobby (no Castiel) -- > Sam leaves --> Dean alone (cake) --> Sam+Dean --> Sam leaves --> Sam and Dean (sort of, Kaylee) --> Sam+Dean**

“Oh,” Ben said again.

Ben looked at the notes. “Could you have like a sign?” he said. “Like an on-again, off-again. You could just flip it back and forth. Then we could just look at it, and . . .” he trailed off.

Sera was still frowning. “On-again, off-again? Then how would you know if it was sort of?”

“Sort of?” said Ben.

“Yeah.” Sera flipped back a page. “See, here?” She pointed to a **Dean and Sam (sort of, but not really)**. “That was when Sam didn’t have a soul. So it wasn’t really on-again. But it wasn’t quite off-again.” She flipped the page again. “See, here? Looks like you’re on **Sam and Dean (sort of, Kaylee)**.”

“Oh,” said Ben.

“On-again sort of,” said Ben.

“Right,” said Sera. “So what this episode needs is for you to get them back together, but not really. And that needs to fit with the ghosts. Oh, and don’t forget, Dean’s an alcoholic now.”

“Oh,” said Ben.

“He wasn’t before?” asked Ben.

Ben didn’t bother to remind her that they were new.

“Send it to Julie next,” was all Sera said.

*

Ben and Ben wrote a rough draft and sent it to Julie. Julie was the story editor, which they had heard didn’t really mean anything: she was a writer, just like the rest of them. But she wasn’t around, so Julie sent Adam the notes, and Adam met with the Bens.

“She says you need to work on the arc,” said Adam.

Ben looked at Ben. “We worked on the arc,” said Ben.

“Sam and Dean, sort of,” said Ben.

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it. “Oh,” he said. “You talked to Sera.”

“Right,” said Ben. “We talked to Sera.”

“Then we worked on the arc,” said Ben.

Adam was slowly nodding. “Right, okay. But it’s not just Sam and Dean.”

“It’s not?” said Ben.

Ben scooted his chair closer to kick him. “We’re new,” he explained.

“Right,” Adam said, nodding again. “It’s Sam and Dean, but this season, Dean killed Kaylee.”

“Yeah.” Ben was nodding also, frowning like he understood. “You know, I thought that was a little out of character.”

“He’s new,” said Ben, and tried to scoot his chair away.

“So Sam’s got to kill someone,” said Adam, clicking through Julie’s comments on the screen. “She says, ‘make sure he’s human, make sure he’s doing bad things, and make sure he doesn’t try to kill Sam first.’” He scrolled down the page. “She says, ‘maybe the human Sam kills could be threatening people remotely, but it should be less direct than kill-or-die.’”

“What?” said Ben.

“What?” said Ben.

Adam was nodding again, clicking his mouse. “She says, Dean killed a person. It was morally ambiguous. Now Sam kills a person. It’s morally ambiguous.”

“Is that the arc for the season?” said Ben.

“We’re really, really new,” said Ben.

Turning away from the screen, Adam shrugged. “I stopped paying attention at storyboarding when they stole my leviathans.”

“Is it the leviathans?” said Ben.

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Ben. “Maybe it’s the leviathans.”

“So the arc is moral ambiguity,” said Ben.

“And leviathans,” said Ben.

Adam shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” said Ben. “They’re killing people. They’re killing people, not in direct self-defense.”

“That doesn’t seem out of character to you?” said Ben.

Adam shrugged again. “You’re new.”

“What does Julie say?” said Ben.

“About the arc?” said Ben. “Is Sam killing guys part of the morally ambiguous, these guys are finally going off the deep end, it’s-the-leviathans arc?”

“Please tell us it’s the leviathan arc,” said Ben.

“You should probably make these changes,” Adam said. “And then you should see Daniel.”

*

Ben and Ben made the changes, and then they saw Daniel. Daniel was another writer. Ben wasn’t sure why they had to go see Daniel; Ben said it was maybe because they were new.

“This is good,” said Daniel. “Plot Number Seven, right?” 

“I guess,” said Ben.

“It has arcs,” said Ben.

Daniel was drinking a frappacino thing with lots of whip cream and sprinkles. “It does. It’s sad. It’s so sad.” He flipped through the script, looking so sad. “Hey! You know what? We’ve used these deaths.”

“You’ve what?” said Ben.

“We’re new,” said Ben.

“You’re new!” Daniel poked his straw to another part of the whipped cream. “That’s awesome. That’s awesome; you need the wall of death!”

“Wall of death?” said Ben.

“We’re old,” said Ben. “We’re experienced! We don’t need a wall of death.”

“We’re practically experts,” said Ben.

“It isn’t hazing,” said Daniel, and sucked down a sprinkle. “It’s just creative ways to kill people. Believe me, it’s awesome. Come on.” He stood up. 

“But we already have ways to kill people,” said Ben, standing up also.

“Yeah,” said Ben, following Daniel and Ben. “We already killed them.”

“But they’re not very creative,” said Daniel, poking his straw some more. He glanced at Ben. “Sorry.”

“It took me an hour to come up with the way she fell down the stairs,” said Ben.

“They’re realistic,” said Ben.

“No one wants to die realistically,” said Daniel. “No one wants to kill anyone realistically either. It should be fun!”

“Killing people,” said Ben.

“It’s a thing,” said Daniel. “You’re new. Hey, so you’ve never been to the writers’ room?”

“The writers’ room?” said Ben.

“You know,” said Daniel as they walked. “It’s where we keep the plots. Also, the sign.”

“The sign?” said Ben.

“You didn’t use the sign?” Daniel asked. “Then how did you know whether Dean and Sam were, you know, broken up or back together?” He sucked on his straw, walking down the hall. “Oh, no. Sera didn’t show you her plan, did she?”

“Sera showed us her plan,” said Ben.

“Oh God,” said Daniel. “She’s crazy.”

“Well, maybe a little,” said Ben.

“It didn’t seem to be a very detailed plan,” said Ben. 

Daniel, sucking on his straw, looked very sad. “She breaks them up so much; it breaks my heart.” Stopping before a door, he opened it. “There are really good ways to die in here,” he said, and stepped in.

“You go first,” said Ben.

“You go first,” said Ben. “You’re new.”

Inside, there was a file cabinet and white board and some other things, among them a picture of Padalecki with his arm slung around Ackles. Under it was a yellow circle that read, _On-again, sort of_. There were green and red circles on top of the file cabinet.

Daniel was going over to the whiteboard, where there was a bunch of writing in red. “Cutlery,” he said wistfully, swirling his whipcream. “I’ve always wanted to kill someone with cutlery.”

Ben went over to the board. “Death by a hair heater at a beauty salon. Death by a hair heater at a beauty salon!” He turned to Ben with doe eyes. “Can we kill someone with a hair heater at a beauty salon?”

Ben frowned. “Well,” he said.

“Nope,” said Daniel. “Sorry. I think Robbie’s doing that one. Or Brad? Someone.”

“Look at this one,” said Ben. “Eat each other! Eat each other to death!”

“That one’s crossed out,” said Ben.

“Yeah,” said Daniel, sucking up more sprinkles. “That was a good one.”

“Death by Oujii,” said Ben. “Hey, can it be a town of psychics?”

“Brained by a crystal ball,” said Ben. “Yes, it can.”

“That’s great!” Daniel was looking at the board over the dome of his frappacino. “They can have visions of their deaths. Maybe that’s how the first ghost is warning them.” He poked at the whipped cream some more. It was almost gone. “I wish I could have more sprinkles.”

“Oh,” said Ben.

“Oh,” said Ben. “That’s really good.”

“That’s really really good.” Then Ben knew why they had been sent to Daniel.

“Hey!” said Daniel. “There should be death by sprinkles. Has someone thought of that before? You really should be able to kill someone with sprinkles. Hold this.” Giving Ben a cup, Daniel picked up a marker, and began writing. “Now that I think about it, death by sprinkler. You could also kill someone with a sprinkler. You know those ones that turn? Or they could drown. You could drown someone with a sprinkler. Oh my God. Oh my God, these episodes are going to be so good. You know what you should kill someone with? A picket fence. A sprinkler and a picket fence! Lawn-mowers. We haven’t done lawn-mowers yet. What was I going to write?”

“Er,” said Ben.

“Sprinkles.”

“Oh my God,” said Daniel. Grabbing his cup, he slurped on his straw and looked at the board. “Sprinkles, _sparkles_. Sequins. You could kill someone with a tutu. Choke someone with a tutu. That has to go on there! Hold this.” He scribbled some more.

“Er,” said Ben.

“Who do we go to next?” said Ben.

“Those cursed shoes where you dance until your feet burn up and you die. Have we done that yet? The feet could fall off! Sorry, this is really distracting.” Daniel sucked on his straw. “And you know those trap doors on stages? You could die from that! You could die so easily, that’s great.”

“Er,” said Ben.

“We’re going now,” said Ben.

“I think we’re good,” said Ben.

Daniel was frowning. “What’s this _kill someone with a catgut lasso from the Punjab_ doing on here?”

*

Because Daniel didn’t tell them whom to take their script to next, Ben and Ben sort of assumed they were done.

“You’re not done,” Mike said. Mike was directing their episode.

“We’re not?” said Ben.

“No.” Frowning, Mike flipped through the script. “You’re missing something. You took this to Sera, right?”

“Yes,” said Ben. “Near the beginning.”

Mike flipped some more. “And you took it to Julie.”

“Yes,” said Ben.

“And Daniel,” said Mike.

“Yes,” said Ben.

Mike looked up. “Does he ever talk?” he asked, looking at Ben.

Ben looked at Ben too. “He’s new.”

Mike shook his head. “Still, it’s missing something. This isn’t like other _Supernatural_ scripts. Hold on, let me ask Sera.” So Mike called Sera, and said _uh-huh_ a lot, and _Sam and Dean, sort of_ quite a few times, and then _that’s it_. “That’s it,” said Mike, and hung up. “Did you talk to Becky?”

“Becky?” said Ben.

“You know,” said Mike. “Becky.”

Ben looked at Ben. “We’re,” he began.

“New,” said Mike. “Okay. Rebecca. Kripke’s assistant?”

“So she isn’t a writer?” said Ben.

“Kripke isn’t around,” said Ben.

“What’s she going to add?” said Ben, because Sera had added Sam and Dean, and Julie had added the arc, and Daniel had added the deaths and the psychics, and really it all felt finished by now.

“Trust me,” said Mike. “You need to see her.”

*

So Ben and Ben took it to Becky, and she said, “Oh. Okay. So this part where this guy is giving the tour, and points out the ghosts are siblings. That’s so your plot can be about Sam and Dean.”

“Yeah,” said Ben, a little annoyed because Sera had already done that part.

“Here’s what you do,” said Becky. “You talk about another sibling pair. But it’s got to be brothers. Oh! And they weren’t actually brothers. They were back in the day. And gay.”

“I,” said Ben, “don’t really get it.”

“That’s okay,” said Becky. “Because the next thing you can do is talk about partnership. What it’s like being a married couple—or brothers, whatever—and how it takes its toll. Really bring home the idea that all these sibling pairs are really Sam and Dean. And you know, Dean killed Kaylee. Take this opportunity to woobify.”

“Woobify?” said Ben.

“That’s okay,” said Becky. “You’re new.”

“Thanks for remembering,” said Ben.

“Woobify means you make us all feel really, really sorry for a poor, misunderstood character.”

Ben frowned. “But Dean killed Kaylee.”

Becky nodded, scribbling on their script some more. Their perfect, finished script. “Dean killed Kaylee. Unsympathetic, right? So woobify the hell out of it. Say the burden of looking after people is really getting to him. Sam’s the one with all the special powers, right? And Dean’s his foundation—that’s the arc. So make the ghosts the same way.”

“That’s the arc?” said Ben.

“Also,” Becky scribbled some more, “Dean’s an alcoholic now.”

“So they say,” said Ben.

“Is _that_ part of the arc?” said Ben.

“And you have psychics,” Becky said, scribbling, “here’s what you do. Make Ellen tell him to stop drinking! And talk about how bad it is.”

“Ellen,” said Ben.

“Isn’t she dead?” said Ben.

“That’s why you have a psychic do it,” said Becky. “Make this tour guide psychic.”

“But doesn’t that need,” said Ben, and just had to stop.

“A little more padding?” Ben finished. “A little bit more explanation or something. If you’re just going to bring back a beloved character like that, just to say a line—”

“That’s the brilliance of it,” said Becky. “Fans will love it! They love Ellen. And she gets to say a line! And we don’t even have to make any effort. We don’t even have to get Samantha! And fans will love it.”

“So that’s what you do,” said Ben.

“You make it gay,” said Ben. 

“And you woobify,” said Ben.

“And you add one-off lines that make pretense to continuity,” said Ben.

“That’s what I do,” said Becky.

“So really,” said Ben. “You write the show.”

“Mostly I just make coffee,” said Becky.

*

When the script was finally ready, it last of all went to the cast.

“Oh, hey,” said Jared, flipping through the pages. “We’re on again.”

“Sort of,” said Jensen. “Did you look at the sign?”

“Right,” said Jared. “Sort of. I guess because you killed Kaylee.”

“For the last time,” said Jensen. “I don’t know who Kaylee is.”

“Who wrote this, anyway?” said Jared.

“The new guys, I think.”

Jared turned another page of the script. “Hey!” he exclaimed, sort of flailing. “I get to kill someone! It’s like murder. That is so cool.”

“That’s weird,” said the Impala. “Doesn’t that seem out of charcter?”

“I dunno,” said Jensen. “I killed Kaylee. Whoever that is.”

“That didn’t seem out of character to you?” said the Impala.

Jensen just shrugged, and Jared said, “But I get to kill someone. It’s like I’m evil all over again. I love being evil.”

“I love it when you’re evil too,” said Sam’s hair. “I get to be more flippy. 

The Impala ignored Sam’s hair. “Is that part of the arc?” it asked. “I would get it if it was part of the arc.”

“What arc?” said Jared.

“Beats me,” said Jensen. “Was it something to do with leviathans?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m part of the arc,” said Sam’s hair.

“Okay,” said Jared, turning back a few pages, “and here’s the gay.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “That would be Becky.”

“And you’re a woobie,” said Jared.

“What’s that?” said Jensen.

“Also Becky,” said Jared. “Oh, and there’s an Ellen shout out!”

“Sam?” Jensen looked over his shoulder again.

“No,” said Jared. “She’s not in it. It’s just fan service.”

Jensen’s shoulders sagged. “Man. Also Becky.”

“You know who isn’t in this?” said the Impala.

“Er,” said Jensen. “Misha?”

“No,” said the Impala. “Guess again.”

“Jim?”

“No,” said the Impala.

Frowning, Jared flipped through the script some more. “I’m pretty sure my hair is in this.”

“I belong to Sam,” said Sam’s hair.

“I’m not in this!” said the Impala.

“What?” said Jensen. “That can’t be right. Of course you’re in this.”

“Don’t get worked up,” said Jared.

“I knew it,” said the Impala. “I knew it. Ever since they cast that sedan against me in season six; I knew it.”

“That was because Sam didn’t have a soul,” Jared said soothingly.

“I really got a big part, that season,” said Sam’s hair. “It just grows and grows!”

“That’s all very well for you!” The Impala sounded nearly hysterical. “Your part didn’t just get cut!”

“My part is never going to get cut,” said Sam’s hair.

“Hush up,” said Jensen. “You’re not under contract.”

“Well,” said Sam’s hair smugly, “neither is she.”

“But I’m a regular!” said the Impala. “I’ve been there since the beginning! When did you show up? Season four? Season five? You’re not special! You could get cut any day!”

“But I won’t,” said Sam’s hair. “I’m part of the arc.”

“Right, arcs,” said Jensen. “Sometimes they have those.” He flipped frantically through the script. “Maybe you’re not in here because of the arc,” he told the Impala.

“Right,” agreed Jared. “The whole killing people arc. Like, maybe you killed people. Or we killed you?”

“Maybe it’s this whole crazy thing where we’re not even real,” said Jensen. “Like some crazy other dimension thing. Like that one with Misha’s sweater.”

“Misha’s sweater.” Sam’s hair stewed. Sam’s hair didn’t like Misha’s sweater: it was competition. “Misha’s sweater got cut.”

“Misha’s sweater was a _guest star_ ,” said the Impala. “I am not a guest star! I’m a star! I’m supposed to be a star!”

“You’re a star,” Jensen said soothingly.

“Remember that time I played Sam?” said the Impala, sounding tragic.

“You played Sam really well,” said Jared. “Almost as good as me.”

“That wasn’t Sam at all,” said Sam’s hair. “You didn’t have Sam’s hair.”

“And remember that episode where I was the main character?” the Impala turned to Jensen, and Jensen had to get out of the way. “I had that really big moment where I convinced Samifer not to kill Dean.”

“You did a really good job,” Jared said, while Jensen just mouthed silently, _Samifer?_

“I did a _great_ job,” said the Impala. “I worked so hard on that part. And now they’re just going to cut me? Do they know what they’re doing?”

“Of course they do,” said Jared.

“They have it all up there in their heads,” said Jensen.

“They know exactly what they’re doing,” said Jared.

“You’ll see,” said Jensen.

“But why?” said the Impala. “If I just knew why . . .”

“We don’t know why,” said Jensen, feeling very sorry.

“They don’t tell us anything ,” said Jared.

“Luckily, I don’t need to know anything,” said Sam’s hair. 

They all looked at it.

Sam’s hair shook itself out. “I’m just that fabulous.”

*

After talking to the regular cast, Ben and Ben sat there, a little stunned.

“Did you know the Impala was part of the tone meetings?” said Ben.

“I had no idea,” said Ben. Ben nodded, used to this by now. “Do you know why the Impala was written out?”

Ben shook his head. He was also used to this. “No.”

Ben started tapping his pencil. “You think it was maybe . . . part of the arc?”

“I don’t know,” said Ben. “They don’t tell us anything.”

Ben sighed. “Well, I guess we don’t need to know.”

Ben looked at him inquiringly, and Ben shrugged.

“We’re just the writers.”


End file.
